


We Are Only What We Always Were

by MadnessofVoid



Series: Sterek Week 2018 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Established Relationship, Familiars, Fluff, Injury, M/M, On the Run, Partners in Crime, Sterek Week 2018, Vigilante, Well some, Witch Hunts, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 11:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadnessofVoid/pseuds/MadnessofVoid
Summary: Stiles frowned, worrying at his lip. He could only imagine how terrified Derek was at that moment – seeing Stiles disappear behind a wall of smoke that stank of mistletoe and other dangerous anti-supernatural goodies, unable to rush in after him due to an explosion occurring moments after the appearance of the smoke. Blocked them off from each other for a good ten minutes. The only reason why Stiles hadn't panicked was because he was far too busy choking on the smoke, and having the flesh on his arm somehow slowly start to burn off.





	We Are Only What We Always Were

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I wrote...and it is one of the last ones of the week. Guess I like to work backwards. XD At this moment I don't have anymore ideas for this specific universe...but that could always change.
> 
> Fun fact: the title came from a line from The Crucible, which was originally going to be the quote I used at the start of the fic. In the end, it suited more as the title.

“ _In other news, there has been yet another attack on a Witch Holding Center this evening. Five people were injured, but fortunately none were killed. Paramedics stated that the wounds sustained by the injured were superficial, and they should all make a full recovery. In all the chaos, at least a dozen or more Witches were set loose. Police and other officials have yet made a final confirmation as to how many actually were able to escape. They said they will make an announcement hopefully later tonight. There are no current suspects, but many seem to believe that the culprit, or culprits, behind this attack are the same ones behind the attack of last week the day after a Coven of twelve were hung in Beacon Hills Square. No one is saying why they think this, but we hope that it will be included in tonight or tomorrow's possible update. Onto the weather -_ ”

 

The screen suddenly turned off. The culprit of the sudden capping off of news watching was reflected off the fading static: a muscular man clad in only plaid sweats, looking rather exhausted and exasperated.

 

“Stiles...we need to sleep. _You_ need to sleep. You can't heal properly if you don't rest.”

 

At the very mention of healing, his kaleidoscope of a gaze fell onto the bandages wrapped around Stiles' right arm. It was bleeding slightly, or it had been and it was now drying. He couldn't feel the burns oozing gross shit anymore. That was a good sign! But sadly, Derek was right. If Stiles wanted the burns from their late night activity to heal...he would have to sleep and recharge. He groaned, hitting his head against the back of their couch and pouting as hard as he could manage without his eyes drooping.

 

“I wanna hear what they have to say about us...” he whined.

 

Derek sighed, rolling his eyes. Hard. “We can find it on the internet later. You don't even know if they'll say anything tonight.”

 

“I still want to watch it in real time!”

 

“You can do that next time. _If_ you don't do something so stupid again.”

 

If Stiles wasn't completely drained from their actions earlier and from the potion used to help the healing process/annoying pain...he would argue to hell and back with his partner over that statement. But, alas, Stiles was completely drained from their actions earlier and from the potion used to help the healing process/annoying pain. Lucky Derek.

 

Sensing Stiles' disgruntlement, Derek leaned over the couch, burrowing his face into Stiles' ever growing hair. He inhaled his scent, and exhaled a shaky breath. “I thought I lost you for a minute back there...”

 

Stiles frowned, worrying at his lip. He could only imagine how terrified Derek was at that moment – seeing Stiles disappear behind a wall of smoke that stank of mistletoe and other dangerous anti-supernatural goodies, unable to rush in after him due to an explosion occurring moments after the appearance of the smoke. Blocked them off from each other for a good ten minutes. The only reason why Stiles hadn't panicked was because he was far too busy choking on the smoke, and having the flesh on his arm somehow slowly start to burn off.

 

He took Derek's hand with his good one, squeezing hard. “Carry me?”

 

Derek snorted. But it was fond. “Your legs suddenly not working?”

 

“Yes. They have shut down. Closed for the night. Will not open until tomorrow.”

 

“I see. Guess I have no choice.”

 

“Not at all.”

 

Derek, again, rolled his eyes, and began muttering about how ridiculous Stiles was being. However, despite that, he scooped Stiles up ever so gently, cradling him as if he was made of glass. Somehow, the burns were not bumped in the travel from the tiny living room to the tiny bedroom they shared. Not even bumped when Derek laid Stiles down in bed, either. It was a miracle. A fucking miracle.

 

“You're rambling.” Derek hummed, crawling in beside him.

 

Stiles blinked blearily, confused. “Huh?”

 

“You're rambling. About the burns and how it is a fucking miracle that they didn't get bumped.”

 

“Oh. Well...it _is_ a fucking miracle. Because we usually hit our wounds on every single surface.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Tuck me in?”

 

There was a disgruntled grunt. Followed by an equally disgruntled, “Are your arms closed, too?”

 

“No...I just...I want you to tuck me in...like you used to after I had a nightmare...”

 

A heavy pause was held between them. Aching...and all too familiar...

 

It had been a long...long time since that practice. Died out when Witches and their Familiars began to be hunted down, slaughtered or imprisoned without a second thought. When that happened...there were too many nightmares that couldn't be fixed by something so childish as being tucked in. Not when half of the nightmares happened in reality...

 

The bed shifted under the weight of Derek's movements. He hovered over Stiles, gingerly taking the blankets they shared in his hands and began tucking him in. It was methodical, like he didn't want to break his partner or disappoint him. There was a sadness sitting in his gaze. A sadness that was too commonplace. A whine tore through Stiles' throat, causing Derek to freeze. Realizing that there was nothing wrong and he had not accidentally hurt Stiles, Derek deflated, leaning forward and pressed their foreheads together. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply – Stiles followed suit.

 

Shortly after, Stiles drifted off to sleep. The exhaustion and the need to heal swallowed him up. He didn't get to finish watching Derek tuck him, only feel it. Oh well. Guess there was always tomorrow. Hopefully...there would be many more tomorrows...

 

**~+~**

 

Stiles awoke with a jolt the next morning. The bed was cold, empty. Void of one less body. He groaned, plopping back down onto his back and dragging a hand down his face.

 

When was it that he became unable to sleep for long without Derek by his side?

 

It certainly wasn't when they were children. Back then, they only cuddled and whispered secrets under the covers, much to the dismay of their families. A Witch and a Familiar were supposed to _only_ co-exist as partners. An almost master-servant arrangement. Of course, Stiles being Stiles and Derek being Derek, they instead treated each other as best friends. And before long...they became romantically involved. It was almost unheard of a Witch and Familiar reaching that level. But this was Stiles and Derek. They broke _all_ the rules.

 

Including the one that said to keep their noses out of the business of the Hunters capturing their kind. Pretty sure if their families were still alive...they would have a heart attack seeing all the trouble they were causing the Hunters.

 

Now, back to the problem at hand...

 

Without Derek beside him in bed, Stiles was not going to fall back asleep. Sure, his arm definitely felt better, but he wanted to sleep in! Especially with their future plans. With a pout, Stiles rolled out of bed and exited the room. He could hear the news down the hall. It wasn't loud enough to be coming from the TV, so Derek must have it on the laptop. He strained his ears as he grew closer, trying to catch what was being said. If things were going his way, it would be updates about their little adventure from last night.

 

It wasn't...

 

“ _\- the Familiar started to break down to its animalistic nature, says experts. And that was why it went on a rampage in Hangman's Square once its Witch was dead._ ”

 

He halted right at the hallway's edge, eyes wide. A Familiar had attacked people – a rare occurrence. The Familiar only did that because...because their Witch was _dead_. _Killed_ , more likely.

 

The bond between a Witch and their Familiar was supposed to be more of a master-servant one...but that didn't mean the bond wasn't _strong_. A Familiar was tied to their Witch till death. If a Witch died naturally, the Familiar would behave as anyone else grieving the loss of a loved one. But if the Witch died _unnaturally_ , like so many were nowadays...the Familiar would lose their mind. There would be no anchor to ground them. No one to stop them. They would be lost in their grief. Lost in their anger. They would go absolutely _berserk_ – killing anyone in their way if they were allowed. The only way for that to not happen was if the Familiar was part of a Coven, their connection able to hop to the next Witch available. Or...if the Familiar was the one that died.

 

He swallowed, shaking like a leaf and fighting the urge to vomit as he heard the next set of words about this story.

 

“ _We have no information about how many were injured or how many are in critical condition. All we know is that everyone that had been attacked has been taken to the hospital, and that the Familiar has been humanly put down._ ”

 

Put down. Put down. Put down. Put down. Put down. Put down. Put down. Put down. Put -

 

Arms enveloped him – timid and still afraid of the wound. Stiles eased, inhaling the scent of pine trees and the developing signs of needing a shower. He sunk into the hold, sighing dramatically.

 

“Did they say anything about us?”

 

Derek hummed, knowing exactly why there was a change of subject. Instead of pressing about it, he walked backwards with Stiles still in his arms, pressing kisses against the hairline. They made it to the table, where Derek reluctantly let Stiles go and pulled out a chair for him. Stile couldn't help the quiet smile. Ever the gentleman, was Derek. Even with his huffs and puffs and growls and dagger glares.

 

Stiles sat down slowly, too busy keeping his focus on Derek. To be honest, after hearing about the unnamed Witch and their Familiar...he didn't want to let Derek out of his sight. If their relationship was the usual, it would be the usual outcome. The Familiar would lose it and the Witch would go about life with a ghostly feeling that a piece of them was lost. But _their_ relationship...if anything should _**ever**_ happen to either of them...

 

The world would burn in a thousand hellfires.

 

The laptop was turned to face him. Derek moved the mouse around, scrolling down the page to find the video asked of him. About halfway down, Derek found what he was looking for. The video was titled ' **Update On Witch Holding Center Terrorist Attack** ', which, rude. It was _not_ a terrorist attack! It was a prison break! Still got a harsh laugh out of Stiles, though.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. Just...they are unoriginal in their names, aren't they?”

 

“I'm sure whatever name they gave us in the video is going to be worse. If they gave us one at all.”

 

“Shit, you're right. Play it! We gotta rip this off like a band-aid!”

 

Normally, Derek would say something about Stiles being dramatic. Roll the eyes. Maybe growl a little. However, instead of that, he appeared...rather grim. He leaned over his partner's good side, brushing their cheeks together, and clicked on the video link.

 

The usual news anchors flashed on the screen: a man balding and wearing a suit five times too small for him, and rail of a woman who always looked like she never slept. They were pretending to have a pleasant chat as the cameras rolled – a little propaganda to make their prejudice and lack of empathy for any supernatural being seem less terrible than it was. Make them look...more human. On cue, they turned to face the cameras, their farce smiles painful to look at. They introduced each other with cheerful dispositions and talked about a few things that didn't catch Stiles' nor Derek's attention. This went on for a few minutes before _finally_ the script moved on to what the video title promised.

 

“ _We have an update on last night's terrorist attack on the Witch Holding Center, which we have learned was located downtown. The five rushed to hospital with superficial wounds are doing all right, and are expected to be released as soon as Thursday. None of them unfortunately got a good look at their assailants, stating that the two attackers had their faces concealed with goat masks. Clearly a mark of something Satanic._ ”

 

The Witch and Familiar snickered at the statement. Satanic, huh? That was just as funny as their last prison break when their deer masks were called perversions of the beloved Bambi.

 

“ _Authorities have stated that all camera footage in the Witch Holding Center had somehow become corrupted, meaning that anything that could have been shown to the public will not be possible. Sheriff Donati said that the pair had somehow gained access into the maximum security structure with absolutely no issue. They seemingly moved about unnoticed for an_ _ **hour**_ _, which is horrifying to think of. There is speculation of what happened next, but it is believed that they broke out over a dozen Witches before causing chaos so that they could escape. However, this is only a speculation._

 

_Adding the masks to all of the facts of the attack, it appears that this is the same MO as the pair that had attacked the Witch Holding Center near Beacon Hills_ _ **and**_ _the pair that had invaded the Argent School Of Supernatural Elimination Training. There were no deaths in the Beacon Hills Witch Holding Center attack, but there was at the Argent school attack. If these despicable beings are all the same, then they are wanted for injuring many innocents, releasing fugitives, and for the murder of Gerard Argent and his daughter Kate. There is also a possibility that they can also be linked to other attacks that involved the release of supernaturals - mostly Witches and Familiars - which also points to the possibility that the pair are either two Witches, two Familiars, or a Witch and a Familiar. There is no more information on the topic currently, but authorities are looking into it every single case as well as this one._ ”

 

Ah, the Argents. That was a name they hadn't heard in a few years. Ironically, they weren't the ones that had killed Gerard and Kate. In fact, those two monsters killed _each other_. Gerard was dying of cancer and wanted an Alpha to bite him. Kate had been accidentally scratched far too deep by an Alpha and was in the middle of shifting. She was losing control the day Stiles and Derek had launched their assault on the school. They had to save the very students that were being trained to kill them from being slaughtered by Kate. Gerard shot her while she was mauling him. Of course, no one would believe that. It was the _'two masked beings that had come to rescue the captured supernaturals that killed the beloved Argents_ '. Because everything was the fault of the supernatural. _**Everything**_.

 

“We need to change tactics...” Derek grumbled, brows knitted tightly together. “We can't let them make connections.”

 

“They're gonna make connections where there are none, anyways. They already are.” huffed Stiles.

 

Derek made a noncommittal hum. It couldn't be denied, even if he wanted to do just that. They both knew that they had only hit three places: the school, the Center in BH, and the one downtown. There had been other attacks on Centers and compounds similar to them, but none of them had been the pair. Just copycats. But would anyone realize that? Nope. Not in the slightest.

 

“Still...we need to be careful...”

 

“I know, big guy. I know.”

 

“ _\- a former Witch has agreed to assist in the hunt for these terrorists to prevent any more attacks, saying that they will track down the Aura of the pair in hopes of locating them. Not an exact science, but I suppose that is better than nothing._ ”

 

“ _How will anyone know if this former Witch will tell the truth? For all we know, this former Witch could be working with these dangerous fiends._ ”

 

“ _I guess time will tell. Moving on to -_ ”

 

Whatever else the anchors were talking about faded out into nothing. Their lips kept moving on the screen but there was no sound. The audience was focused on one thing: former Witch. There was one hundred percent no such thing as a _former_ Witch. Really, it was code word for a Witch that had been tortured to the point of being practically lobotomized and the Hunters could use the faint powers leftover to do whatever the hell they wanted. In this case...

 

Stiles swallowed, eyes falling on the time stamp of the video. One hour. It said _one_ hour. If Hunters were really using an unwilling Witch to track them down...

 

Utter chaos ensued. The chair clattered to the floor, the first sound they could hear in what felt like hours. They scrambled throughout the apartment, throwing only the essentials into their duffle bags. Stiles ignored the slowly forming flame of pain in his bandaged arm – too panicked to bitch about it. They had to get out of dodge fucking fast. Had to cover their tracks. Too much to do in so little time. Hell, they both could hear the ticking clock in their minds!

 

As Stiles was shoving the only reminders they had of their families into his bag, there was an aggressive pounding at the door. He froze, air being sucked hard into his lungs. There was no movement from Derek in the kitchen, probably was in the middle of grabbing their laptop. Stiles crept out of the room, causing their eyes to meet. Derek could sneak down the hall, reach Stiles, and they could climb out of the bathroom window. Was is a five story drop? Yes. But they could make it. They had Magic on their side. Stiles motioned for Derek to come to him, drinking in the panic of his childhood friend. Derek briefly glanced at the door, flinching a the second aggressive knock and the announcement that it was the police and Hunters on the other side.

 

_**Derek! Come on!** _

 

_**We still need -** _

 

_**Leave it! We gotta fucking go!** _

 

Derek appeared torn. He wanted to grab whatever was left in the front room – Stiles could sense it. But whatever it was, it wasn't deemed important anymore. Ever so cautiously, Derek shoved the laptop in the bag and made his way towards the hall, towards Stiles.

 

They heard. They had to. Because just as Derek's foot touched the hall, the door blew off its hinges. Derek swore loudly and booked it. Furious demands chased after him. So did gunshots. Stiles screamed at his partner, kicking open the bathroom door in hopes of making their escape faster. Derek dove into the bathroom, racing to the window to get it open. Stiles stayed in the hall, tossing his bag after his partner. He had to protect Derek. No matter the cost.

 

_**What are you doing!?** _

 

_**Giving us time.** _

 

_**Are you – fine! Just don't do anything unless I tell you to!** _

 

The intruders made their way into the hall, guns aimed at him. Stiles raised his hands, wincing at the protest in his arm. He could hear Derek fighting with the stubborn window. Could hear the intruders commanding Stiles to get on his knees and ' _turn yourself in_ '. Stiles stoically glared at these bastards, fighting every ounce of his being that wanted to fidget at the fact that their escape window wouldn't open.

 

The group carefully made their way down the hall, fear wafting from them the closer they became. They weren't shooting. Why weren't they shooting? They shot at Derek when they entered. Why weren't they shooting when they had Stiles cornered in a narrow space? He furrowed his brows, confused. Shoot first, but not fatally – that was the golden rule these monsters had whenever dealing with supernaturals. They had shot at Derek. Why weren't they shooting at Stiles?

 

“I said get on the ground and give up, Witch!”

 

Wait...Witch? Ohhhhh. They thought _Stiles_ was the Witch. They thought that _Derek_ was the Familiar. Shoot and kill the Witch – risk the Familiar going berserk and slaughtering them. Shoot and kill the Familiar – no real big issue with the Witch. And the bigger man _had_ to be the Familiar! Because the Witch was _always_ the wiry and frail looking one! Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha!

 

How. Fucking. Cute.

 

“Hey, babe?”

 

He heard his partner, his _Witch_ , pause. Felt those eyes fall on him. The fact that Stiles wasn't using the Channels to communicate in this type of situation was concerning. Meant that there was something sneaky up the sleeve.

 

“Do I have permission to play Predator and Prey? I promise to make it look like an animal attack.”

 

The intruders kept shouting commands at Stiles, which was making him a tad irked. Only _one_ person could command him. The seconds seemed to tick by in slow motion. He felt Derek's invisible hands squeeze at his own, thumbs stroking the skin. Permission had been granted.

 

Lips curled into a menacing smirk – fangs flashing. His eyes glowed a deep, angry red. Blue, Magical Aura swirled around him. A nice gift from his Witch.

 

The fear in their unwanted guests' eyes was _**delicious**_.

 

“WOLF FAMILIAR!”

 

Things passed by in a haze of red. Bullets of the wrong kind fazed through him. His being went in and out in a puff of dark smoke. Claws met flesh. Hollers of agony became music. Iron scents stained the air. Bones cracked and groaned as fur took hold for a period. Silence.

 

The Familiar heaved out pained breaths, his entire body shaking feverishly as he shifted back to bipedal form. The bullets used against him may have been the wrong kind, since Wolf Familiars were practically unheard of, but hundreds of bullets made specifically for common Familiars still had a toll. Not to mention his stubborn to heal arm, which was seeping blood through the wrecked bandage. Or was that the blood from the Hunters and officers he had just incapacitated? Either way...Stiles was in rough shape.

 

Arms wrapped around him. Lips pressed against his neck. He shuddered, groaning for many reasons. Strength was being seeped back into him. Blood was fading from his skin. He grinned, leaning into the man he loved.

 

“Do we have time for this? They did make a lot of noise.”

 

Derek grunted, nosing at his hairline. “Someone has to clean up after you. And we have five minutes.”

 

“That isn't a lot of time. They likely have backup somewhere. They always do.”

 

“We have Magic.”

 

“Doesn't solve all the things.”

 

“It will this time.”

 

With one last kiss on the neck, the Witch pushed off his Familiar, going back into the bathroom. “Put on some clothes. Grab your bag. This window isn't opening. I'm blowing it off.”

 

“And you didn't do that before why?”

 

“Was trying to be incognito. _You_ ruined that.”

 

“ _You_ gave me permission!”

 

The Witch chuckled, shrugging. He gave his Familiar a glowing blue stare before summoning a massive amount of Magic and...

 

_Blew apart the whole friggin' wall_!

 

Stiles yelped, ducking instinctively. When the smoke cleared, he threw Derek the best disbelieving expression he could muster. All the while the show off _smirked_.

 

“What the shit, Hale?!”

 

“All attention will be drawn here. And the rest of the walls on the other floors that are now gone. We can make some good footing. Reach Kira and Lydia's, probably.”

 

Wow. That actually was...a good-ish idea. But still... “You didn't have to take out the whole wall, dude.”

 

Derek shrugged again, holding a hand out. Stiles huffed and rolled his eyes, giving his partner the one minute signal. Still needed clothing. He hurried to dress, not bothering to fix his healing arm. No time for that. Once done, he stumbled into the bathroom, nearly tripping over his bag, reminding him to not forget it. Derek scoffed at him with an all too loud eye roll and fond smile. Stiles mimicked him before taking his hand, gripping tight.

 

“Good thing this was a throw away apartment...” Derek grumbled, though his eyes read sadness.

 

Stiles nodded, wrapping around him like a koala. They never stayed in a place for too long. Not since the Argent incident. It was smarter that way. As beings that were constantly hunted, they needed to be ten steps ahead. Wasn't always that way. And, one day, Stiles hoped that they wouldn't have to keep running. Finally start the life they had dreamed of since they were kids.

 

“Don't kill us with this jump.” Stiles teased weakly, starting to feel faint.

 

“I never do.” Derek whispered softly.

 

That was true. That was true. Stiles allowed himself to chuckle, a weak smile crossing his face. He then closed his eyes, head resting on Derek's shoulder as their bodies and scarce belongings were flung through the hole. The whooshing somehow lulled him to sleep, dreams of the future consuming him. It was a beautiful future. One he hoped would come soon.

 

With all the fight they were putting up, the future would have to come.

 

They wouldn't allow it not to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out the event!
> 
> http://sterekweek-2018.tumblr.com/


End file.
